Spiraled and Caught

"These words are my own from my heart." -- Natasha Beddingfield


 When  did the times  change?
I see our with new eyes today.
Where do the smiles hide?
 Now the wind blows my thoughts away.

I thought I once knew everything--
 or really,  had learned SOME thing,
 Yet now I sit stunned,  silent,  in stupor
 As the scenes before my eyes  deeply sting.

I know things are good;
 Well, I think they are,  anyway.
 But somehow I'm saddened,
 More  distant than anything.

 When have my cares taken over my joys?
I lack the freedom I once had to breathe.
I feel the tightness,  the clenching  that's deep in my chest
 Which on ce used  to float and cavort out  with ease.

 I could make bold decisions  and leap for the chances
 For latr drives,  for movies,  for running,  for  dances,
 For pizza,  for fellowship,  for speaking,  for  leading.
 Now instead,  my soul is left pleading

 For renewal of vows of the inmost  degree,
 For promises and spirit,
 For some new sparked opportunities.

I feel like a shell that I'm spiraled  and caught
 That the world passes  by me with no single thought.

 That the world passes by me with

 No

 single


 thought.

The Cardboard-Crate Life

The boxes have a pile again.
This time, there's plenty of furniture wrap, bubble wrap, newspaper, and label paper.
This time, I know what to expect.
I know what needs protecting.

I expect the goodbyes to be "I'll see you soon"s.
I expect the moving day will be filled with helping hands and end in a sweaty mess.
I expect tensions will be high as I try to organize each detail
                                            as I try to direct the flow of delicate possessions
                                            as I try to both hold onto the fond memories of this house and grieve for the life I now leave behind.
I expect some excitement and fear as I drive away with a car filled dangerously full.
I expect to have a new iPod playlist to distract me from the work.
I expect these things for that day.

As I look forward, I look back.
What happened last time? What happens this time?

I expect that I will know no one in this new town of new buildings and streets.
I expect that the "I'll see you soon"s will turn into mere imprints on the wind.
I expect that I will only know where the good food is once I am preparing to leave.
I expect the excitement will be dulled as there are no girlfriends to share it with when I get old.
I expect I'll learn a new way to drive with the "worst drivers ever."
I expect that another 15 pounds is waiting for me on the couch.
I expect I will just want to stay cuddled up in my new home on the furniture I know,
with the stuff I know, with the only person I know,
safe in the few things I know
Until I am too sad to try to get out.
Too lazy to build up new hobbies.
Too quiet to make any new friends.
Too "content" (or discontent) to mess up my routine.



I can't let this happen again; I have no patience for the doldrums.
I can't survive in a cardboard-crate life.
I need the touch of grass, the breath of breezes, and the laughter of water.
I need to reconnect with humanity and Earth.
I need a place to settle in that's more than just a house--a home.